Drawn

I was up a little later than my better half...and found this when I went to get in bed.

Zombies and sleeping aside, we're gearing up for Homeschooling! I can't wait!

Last time we talked our fam was in the process of joining a church school as our legal umbrella and source of accountability for homeschooling Sister. The weekend before registration began, T and I sat down to fill out our application and realized what had been emailed to us was actually the school guidelines, and NOT the application.

I called first thing that Monday morning (day one of registration) to obtain the correct forms and was told so many applications had already been received that there was "just no way" we'd get in. Reluctantly, the director agreed to email me the application, and with it, she sent a list of other homeschool umbrellas and suggested rather than spend time filling out her forms, we pursue one of these other schools. (She was kind, just very matter of fact.)

My heart sank and filled with anxiety. I was sure this was the umbrella school God had called us to. I also felt like an idiot - I can see waiting until the last minute to fill out the forms (not that that's a good idea or anything), but to even open the attachment! It had been sitting in my inbox for over a month!

So I printed out the 12 pages and began filling them out. They asked all sorts of questions, some were yes or no and some were essay questions. I filled them out quick as I could, loaded the children in the car, and drove it all to the School. The director was out for lunch. I left the forms with the secretary.

I called that afternoon (at T's suggestion) to verify that she had indeed delivered the forms to the school director and got a big fat, "no."

Once I'd been assured the forms were in the proper hands, and reminded that more forms had already been received than there were openings, I sort of mentally checked it off my list and we went about life.

Two weeks later I rummaged through the mail and came across a letter from THE school. With trembling fingers I tore into it and read that we'd been accepted!

We rejoiced. We thanked God. I felt relief. Confirmation. Yes, God had called us to this and that was where He wanted us.

And then I mentioned to a friend that we'd "gotten in."

With great conviction she said, "Y'all were drawn by the hand of God."

I was was like, "I know! This is where He wants us! Isn't this great!?"

And she said, "no, you don't get it. They had more families turn in applications than they'd ever had before and they closed registration at the end of the first day and literally, drew names to see who would get in. Y'all were literally DRAWN by the hand of God."

Makes me pretty excited. I LOVE seeing Him so clearly at work in our lives!!! And I am so thankful He is so, so gracious!!!

It's Sorta Like Wine

After Little Bit tried to scale the steps...

Or rather, scaled the steps and was safely rescued by a most helpful big sister...

Sister and Little Man grabbed the last of the candy stick stash and hid behind the breakfast room table for a sweet snack.

And their conversation went something like this:

Sister: "You know Little Man, I have watermelon and you have root beer."

Little Man: "What's root beer?"

Sister: "Well, it's sort of like wine."

Wiggle Wiggle

Lately her finger lives in her mouth...wiggling that first loose tooth! And every time she passes a mirror, she stops to watch that tooth wiggle.

Yesterday she yelled for me. I came running and found...as she put it, her "tooth had collapsed!"

With Little Man cheering her on, she gave it a little tug!

And then...

After the husband and I had that wonderful week to ourselves, we joined the children and spent several nights with the grands.

During which I saw my first 3-D movie...The Last Airbender. Now THAT was an act of love on my part. T's tank is surely FULL.

Little Bit didn't walk while we were away, HOORAY!!! But she is increasingly mobile and daring.

T and his brother sifted through boxes of transformers? Not really sure - guy stuff - and matchbox cars. Little Bit found those ugly men most entertaining. (And tasty.)

And the matchbox cars, too.

We had the most wonderful lunch on the road on the way home...Whataburger.

Whatasmile.

Whatacup.

And whatasucker. (Her first.)

And when we got home...

WHATAMESS!!!

You'll never guess who figured out a way to jiggle the locks on his ginormous kennel to get out???

You'll never guess who had his own little partay???

You'll never guess who ate my needlepoint pillows??? (That I bought for a steal...but it's the replacement cost!!!)

You'll never guess who pottied in several places???

You'll never guess who pulled the pillows off the guest bed???

You'll never guess who pulled all the stuffing out of one of my pillows???

You'll never guess who ate my moss covered rocks???

You'll never guess who ripped T's Star Wars poster off the playroom wall?

You'll never guess who tore up the little mink (or maybe rabbit) stole that had been our dear, sweet neighbors - it had been a gift to Sister...???

Guess who???

That precious little blessing who just turned one.

Our sweet neighbors who were caring for the pups in our absence cleaned it up. They even had to employ a spackling knife to scrape up the, ahem, mess Warrior left on the carpet upstairs.

That is love.

This will NOT happen again. Thank you very much. Five carabiners later, with BOTH kennel openings secure, I am not worried.

And if it does happen again, Warrior's hide would make a nice little bedside rug. Actually, I think it would look kind of nice in the kitchen.

And I'm not sure what to make of my response. I was just like, "Whatever. Whatever." My blood didn't boil and rise over the top. I didn't yell. Didn't cry. I was just very quietly like, "whatever." And I proceeded to pick up the rest of the fill that was scattered here and there, to launder the dirty pillow case, etc, to roll up the poster, in general, to clean up the bits and pieces that were left. And T was so apologetic and insisted I immediately begin looking for replacement pillows. Unfortunately those were probably a once in a lifetime find. That's ok. I've just added them to my mending pile. If nothing else, the mended rips will be a reminder that it's just stuff.

Happy day to you!

It's All in the Bones

I have a little watercolor that's pretty special to me. It's one of two T bought for me while we were in Italy. It's sat upright and protected between two boards for nearly two years. I knew I wanted a pretty frame, but have you priced frames!? Whew.

While the kiddos were gone, we frolicked through nearly every thrift store in town. I happened upon an old, ugly, dinged up, brown frame. But the bones were there. Ticket price: $3. When I pulled out my cash, the girl at the register said, "I'll only charge you $2." Even better!

I took her home, pulled out some craft paints, and went to work. I broke all the rules, thank you very much for the encouragement, Nester! I didn't sand. I didn't prime. I just painted.

And then I found a large brown thick piece of paper from my stash and mounted (with scotch tape) the water color to it, and slapped it in the frame. Sans any glass. I even hung it using my floral wire...'cause I had it on hand...wrapped between the original mounting hook and an already existing staple and wha-la!

I'm thrilled with the end result. Every time I walk in the living room and see it, I smile and the memories flood my mind!

I realize a frame seems quite trivial in the grand scheme of life, but once again, God has shown me how very much He is "in the details." The frame, the price, the perfect size, my desire for a frame, and because the children were away, the time to execute. God is big. So big, He's in every single detail. Even the ones that seem menial and insignificant.

"And even the hairs on your head are all numbered."~Matthew 10:29

A Few Firsts

This week has brought a few firsts...

We attempted to "de-mullet" Little Bit. Thus, her first hair cut.

I asked Sister to take the shots...not too bad!

Friday night I pulled Little Bit from the bathtub and she brought with her a blue rubber star. We have these stuck on the tub bottom to help keep the kids from sliding. I laid her on her changing table and began dressing her. She reached over to the wall and tried to stick the star to it. It, of course, fell...and she uttered, "Uh-Oh!" I squealed! And handed it back to her. And she did it again. And again. And again. She's obviously a genius!

Her first word: "Uh-Oh!"

And then I handed her her baby doll which she pulled to her face, placed her lips on baby's forehead, and said, "mmmmmm-uh." She kissed her baby!!! (And then promptly threw her on the ground.)

Her first kisses!

And now the games have begun. We are all vying for her attention..."Little Bit, say "uh-oh. Little Bit, give Sister a kiss!" And Little Bit plays. She plays well. Last night she threw her spoon on the ground no less than thirty-eight times and shouted "uh-oh" each time! Sister and Little Man are all too eager to retrieve chunked items. And Little Bit is all too eager to chunk items. We must work on this.

While the Children are Away...

...their parents will play!

And stay up late and eat out, or better yet, have popcorn and twizzlers for dinner. They will have long conversations, and feel odd the entire time, for lack of being interrupted. The house will stay clean, the beds made, the laundry room empty, and there will be no crumbs on the floor. And they will marvel at what they can accomplish.

All kidding aside, T's parents graciously kept all three children for an entire week and it was wonderful. I don't remember the last time T and I had a week together at home. It was bliss. By about the third day, sans the kids, I became giddy. It was like I finally felt the relief from being responsible for three children...and it was wonderful. I had forgotten just how much I really like my husband. Like, I really like my husband. It's easy to forget that marriage is a bigger priority than children. A priority that was there before they were born, and will continue after they fly the nest. Even though T went to work each day, a week at home, just the two of us, was very good for our marriage.

By the end of our time apart, we were thrilled to see the children! When Sister and I embraced, she burst into tears. (And melted my heart.)

So, while they were away, my main goal was to slipcover an old hand-me-down sofa, to re-upholster the settee for Sister's room, and to paint the living room.

As for the sofa, she was beautiful in her day. I can still here my grandmother fussing at me for sitting on the arm. However, time has taken its toll on the fabric. It's worn completely through in many areas and was quite stained.

Originally, I thought I wanted to go white. However, I couldn't find white fabric thick enough to hide the chintz. So I opted for linen, but wanted to slip the frame itself in a charcoal color and leave the cushion a natural color. I couldn't find charcoal linen. So I bought some dye.

But their was too much fabric to fit it all in the washer at once, and I wanted my scraps to be the original linen color. And I wasn't sure where to cut. So I started draping and pining and cutting.

For three days I draped and pinned and cut and sewed.

And I did a little seam ripping. And finally I had what I was looking for.

But it wasn't the color I wanted. Everything in the living room was beige and tan...so with trembling hands, I loaded the washer and poured in the dye. And then like a wide-eyed child, I squatted down with my face pressed against the washing machine window, watching. And sweating.

Eventually I broke away. I worked on the cushion cover. And kept running back to the washer...and then the dryer. Finally, the moment of truth. I put her on the sofa...and COMPLETELY FREAKED OUT. The dye didn't take on the thread...and the color wasn't charcoal gray. It was DENIM BLUE. (Nothing wrong with a denim blue sofa - it's just that I'd spent three days and some hard earned money and did NOT have what I'd envisioned, which, as you can imagine, is rather disappointing.) I fretted and wrung my hands.

My sweet husband, who'd suggested I run a test dye batch, never gave me the "I told you so" look. He agreed wholeheartedly that it looked like denim and that he also would prefer a charcoal color. He assured me that in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't that big of a deal. He suggested I try re-dying it.

So we went to the fabric store and I bought every packet of brown dye they had. Because the brand dye they carried wasn't made for use in a washer, I mixed it in a wheelbarrow...and spilled it on my tennis shoes, so I threw them in, too. (They came out looking much better than before.)

For an hour I hand "swished" that fabric, hoping against hope that my knowledge of the color wheel would prove useful.

I wrung it out the best I could and stuffed it all in a garbage bag and carried it inside to put in the washer. But there was a lot of liquid I hadn't wrung out, and I tipped the bag wrong, and sloshed brown dye water all over a rug. Thankfully the rug was already dark colors and I was able to quickly rinse the dye out. Finally, I got the fabric in the washer, and then the dryer.

While it didn't come out as envisioned, I do like it.

It went from this:

to this:

(In case it reads denim on your screen - it's not. It's a brownish-dark gray.) I also re-arranged the room and painted and did a bit of re-purposing.

All in all, I am pleased. There is a part of me that wishes I'd never messed with the dye...that I'd left it the original linen color. Live and learn, right?

At the end of the week we'd accomplished much. I am ashamed to admit that I'd fully anticipated getting to the end of my to-do list and having a great sense of accomplishment, of rest, of worth, from doing all we'd done.

However, that was not the case. I got lots done, but I felt no different. No better. No more worthy. I do believe the Holy Spirit is teaching me that while I often (failingly) seek my worth and significance in what I can do or in the way my home looks, it's not there. I may find it there temporarily, but we all know the new rush fades fast. No, my worth and significance are to be found in my Redeemer. If only I didn't run from Him and look elsewhere so often.

Done.

Yea! She's done!!!

I bought this little settee/chair for $35 at the thrift store...and worried I'd made a hasty decision. After some elbow grease and another $20, I'm quite pleased with how she turned out.

After pulling and ripping and literally man-handling the old upholstery, etc. off, I re-did the upholstery, er, the springs and such. I learned a few things I'd do different next time.

Since it's going in Sister's room, I opted for a very light pink. It's called rehearsal dinner. It's so light, it's practically white.

I put four, yes, four coats on her and let her dry.

And then began the upholstery part. Thanks to info found on this website (the nester sent me there), in combo with a book my neighbor loaned me, I think it turned out alright.

Once I finished the seat cushions, I sat down and breathed a sigh of relief...it held!

I can't wait to show Sister!